The King's Achievement Part 83

"They have him out there," he said; "Master Cromwell, I mean."

Then he rose abruptly.

"He cannot receive Viatic.u.m; and he will not be able to make his confession. I should shrive him at once, sir, and anoint him."

"At once?" whispered Chris.

"The sooner the better," said the doctor; "there is no telling."

Chris rose swiftly from his knees, and made a sharp sign to Morris. Then he sank down once more, looking round, and lifted the purple stole from the floor where he had laid it the evening before; and even as he did so his soul revolted.

He looked up at Beatrice. Would not she understand the unchivalry of the act? But the will in her eyes compelled him.--Yes, yes! Who could set a limit to mercy?

He slipped the strip over his shoulders, and again bent down over his brother, with one arm across the motionless body. Beatrice and Sir James were on their knees by now. Nicholas was busy with Morris at the further end of the room. The doctor was gone.

There was a profound silence now outside as the priest bent lower and lower till his lips almost touched the ear of the dying man; and every word of the broken abrupt sentences was audible to all in the room.

"Ralph--Ralph--dear brother. You are at the point of death. I must shrive you. You have sinned very deeply against G.o.d and man. I shall anoint you afterwards. Make an act of sorrow in your heart for all your sins; it will stand for confession. Think of Jesu's love, and of His death on the bitter cross--the wounds that He bore for us in love. Give me a sign if you can that you repent."

Chris spoke rapidly, and leaned back a moment. Now he was terrified of waiting--he did not know how long it would be; but for an intent instant he stared down on the shadowed face.

Again the eyelids flickered; the lips formed words, and ceased again.

The priest glanced up, scarcely knowing why; and then again lowered himself that if it were possible Ralph might hear.

Then he spoke, with a tense internal effort as if to drive the grace home....

"_Ego te absolvo ab omnibus censuris et peccatis, in nomine Patris_--"

He raised himself a little and lifted his hand, moving it sideways across and down as he ended--"_et Filii et Spiritus Sancti_."

The priest rose up once more, his duty driving his emotion down; he did not dare to look across at the two figures beyond the bed, or even to question himself again as to what he was doing.

The two men at the further end of the room were waiting now; they had lifted the candles and crucifix off the table, and set them on the bench by the side.

Chris went swiftly across the room, dropped on one knee, rose again, lifted the veiled vessel that stood in the centre, with the little linen cloth beneath, and set it all down on the bench. He knelt again, went a step aside back to the table, lifted the other vessel, and signed with his head.

The two men grasped the ends of the table, and carried it across the floor to the end of the bed. Chris followed and set down the sacred oils upon it.

"The cross and one candle," he whispered sharply.

A minute later he was standing by the bed once more.

"_Oremus_--" he began, reading rapidly off the book that Beatrice held steadily beneath his eyes.

"_Almighty Everlasting G.o.d, who through blessed James Thy Apostle, hast spoken, saying, Is any sick among you, let him call the priests of the Church_--" (The lips of the dying man were moving again at the sound of the words; was it in protest or in faith?)--" ... _that is what is done without through our ministry, may be wrought within spiritually by Thy divine power, and invisibly by Thy healing; through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen._"

The lips were moving faster than ever on the pillow; the head was beginning to turn from side to side, and the mouth lay open.

"_Usquequo, Domine_" ... began Beatrice.

Chris dipped his thumb in the vessel, and sank swiftly on to his knees.

"_Per istam sanctam Unctionem_"--"_through this holy unction_...."

(The old man leaned suddenly forward on to his knees, and steadied that rolling head in his two hands; and Chris signed firmly on the eyelids, pressing them down and feeling the fluttering beneath his thumb as he did so.)

" ... _And His most loving mercy, may the Lord forgive thee whatsoever thou hast sinned through sight._"

Ah! that was done--dear G.o.d! those eyes that had drooped and sneered, that had looked so greedily on treasure--their lids shone now with the loving-kindness of G.o.d.

Chris s.n.a.t.c.hed a morsel of wool that Morris put forward from behind, wiped the eyelids, and dropped the fragment into the earthen basin at his side.

"_Per istam sanctam Unctionem_...."

And the ears were anointed--the ears that had listened to Layton's filth, to Cromwell's plotting; and to the cries of the oppressed.

The nostrils; the lips that had lied and stormed and accused against G.o.d's people, compressed now in his father's fingers--they seemed to sneer even now, and to writhe under the soft oil; the hands that had been laid on G.o.d's portion, that had torn the vessels from the altar and the cloth of gold from the treasury--those too were signed now, and lay twitching on the coverlet.

The bed clothes at the foot of the wooden framework were lifted and laid back as Chris pa.s.sed round to the end, and the long feet, icy cold, were lying exposed side by side.

_Per Istam sanctam Unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, indulgeat tibi Domimus quidquid peccasti per incessum pedum. Amen._

Then they too were sealed with pardon, the feet that had been so swift and unwearied in the war with G.o.d, that had trodden the sanctuary in His despite, and trampled down the hearts of His saints--they too were signed now with the mark of Redemption and lay again under the folded coverlet at the end of their last journey.

A convulsion tore at the priest's heart.

Then suddenly in the profound silence outside there broke out an indescribable clamour, drowning in an instant the murmur of prayers within. It seemed as if the whole world of men were there, and roaring.

The sound poured up through the window, across the moat; the boards of the flooring vibrated with the sound. There was the throb of drums pulsating through the long-drawn yell, the screams of women, the barking of dogs; and a moment later, like some devilish benediction, the bells of Barking Church pealed out, mellow and jangling, in an exultation of blood.

Ralph struggled in his bed; his hands rose clutching at his throat, tearing open his shirt before Beatrice's fingers could reach them. The breath came swift and hoa.r.s.e through his open teeth, and his eyelids flickered furiously. Then they opened, and his face grew quiet, as he looked out across the room.

"My--my Lord!" he said.

THE END.